A Shade of Dawn
Basically, this is the story of Vestige and Kokoro's life before joining The Chasten. Yepyep boop. Being written by Kit and Wings. April 2nd Vestige'' ' Death. Something that I’m not supposed to understand, yet want it so badly. Death could be the key to my happiness, if only I had the chance to really process it, to feel it. But no, I’m stuck with the living, chained to a room that smells like ash and blood. The SandWing sits there; his poisonous black eyes stare back at me through the window, a cigarette hanging loosely from his chapped lips. Oh, how I pray for him to be trapped in a room, tortured constantly, fed rarely… Two my left, a pair of guards watch me intently through black masks. They scare me, yes, but I'm not supposed to feel fear. They call me powerful, a goddess of science, but how could a goddess remain trapped in a laboratory for the rest of her life? No, I am not a miracle of war. I am a slave, drugged with life. Perhaps I should stop thinking about these silly things so often, like the battle-scarred SeaWing recommends. But this is their consequence for messing with nature and life and beauty. Turning an innocent dragonet into a monster, a freak, a- The sudden crack of a whip slamming against my side pulls me back into reality. The guards surround me, both now recognizably SkyWing, both heavily armed and menacing. One of them is bleeding in several places, and her jaw is leaking the crimson liquid that I know so well. The SandWing is casually sitting at his desk, as usual, writing down notes and lighting up another cigar. His ignorance annoys me. But I injured one of the scaly fireballs, which is good. I must’ve lashed out. I do that a lot. Maybe too much, but someone always gets hurt. Usually me. But death doesn't come without pain. '''May 1st Kokoro There is never silence, always a whisper of sound slithering into your ear. For once in my life, I wish I could witness it. This laboratory of broken hopes for all who bear the metal cuffs and chains is never silent. I am one of them, one of those who has broken everything. If only I had gotten so out of control that I died. The dead have it easy, there is no pain or suffering, hunger or bleeding when you are dead. But then again, I guess you aren't really enjoying it. But one question burns me, right in the beating of my dark heart- why is everyone so afraid of death? A clicking of talons on tile stirs my mind back to the reality. A large, brute-looking NightWing with tattered wings comes into my "chamber" as they call it (really a cage...what sort of homey chamber has bars?) and wires my jaw shut, his beefy talons digging into my soft scales on my snout. I grit my teeth, but as all have learned here, pain is something to ignore. It won't ever go away for good. The shadowy monster pushed me out of my cage with a leash-like, heavy leather rope, dragging me to my metal "arena". As I like to call it, the place where they force me to kill other screw-up experiments, taking notes with smug looks curled on their fat snouts. Getting pushed through the thick metal door, the large NightWing let go of the leash, as well as yanking off the metal jaw-binder. Flicking my tongue out, I bare my teeth at him in a sneer as a stalk away from him. I know what's coming- death. Not for me, but for some other broken and lost soul, not different from my own. May 1st Vestige I was once friends with this dragonet, who was many years younger than me. Not an experiment, but the only daughter of a scientist, lonely as her parents paid little attention to her. She felt bad for me, seeing past my rough exterior and into the darkness within. Scared of me, yes, but not to the point that she avoided me. The one thing that kept me alive was a giggly little SeaWing dragoness who didn't understand the difference between life and death. Her bright personality killed her. Well, her parents killed her, but they kept saying that it was her fault. That curiosity killed the cat, among other words. She was innocent, too innocent for their liking. They thought that she would "ruin me" if she continued to visit and care for me. Poison traveled into her body, and the corpse was sent to an unknown location. Her mother stands before me now, grief permanently plastered onto her turquoise face as she forcefully tightens a series of metal chains throughout my figure. We walk down a long hall, silent, both wanting to dig a whole and die in it. I stare up at a clock, realizing that it's already past noon. Lunch. Disgusting, revolting food served with a frown. I growl, my throat dry, as we enter the cafeteria. I'm quickly unchained, the doors close behind me, and I find myself face to face with not a mound of food, but instead the little SeaWing herself. Category:Kitagon's Stuff Category:Wings's Stuff